


Libertine

by Elfiila



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Begging, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, F/M, Finger Sucking, Hooded Exarch, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, This man does things to me, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, Wall Pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfiila/pseuds/Elfiila
Summary: His lips hover over yours before he claims your mouth with a throaty growl. You gulp down a gasp as his lips ravage you. Staking a claim, leaving no quarter. You are his.There is no room for doubt. The Crystal Exarch will break you down and remake you, in his name and his alone. You belong to him.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 32
Kudos: 104





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly an excuse to write hooded!Exarch.

No words are exchanged when you grasp at the bottom of the Crystal Exarch’s hood and draw him closer. Hands sliding over the jeweled adornments at his neck, you move to grasp at the crimson sash that drapes across one shoulder. The urge to push away his cowl is scuppered when he grasps your small hands in his and firmly rests them against his broad chest.

Closing the unwanted distance, you both rush to meet mouths. As your teeth clack, it sends a shiver down your spine. Though quickly forgotten as he licks your bottom lip, begging for entry to the welcoming warmth within. Obliging him, your lips part and he delves in with all manner of urgency. The kiss is noisy, too much tongue but you would deny him nothing. The heat rises in your body, a flush blooming across your cheeks. His tongue caressing your mouth drives you wild. Sets you on fire. And you want to _burn_. But a fire needs oxygen, as do you. Reluctantly pulling away, you gaze up at him with hooded eyes.

The skin not marred by crystal is flushed, the thumb of his spoken hand traces his bruised lower lip. Reddened by your affections, you have a need to pull him closer. Claim his lips again. One accidental slip of your hand and you’d be able to see the face of the man who sets your loins ablaze, the one who makes the apex between your legs throb with desire. 

“If we are to go further, your eyes must be covered,” he whispers.

You pout in mild frustration. “I shall agree to it. But one day I shall find who hides under this hood of yours.”

He smiles wryly, then turns away. Leaning to one side, you watch as he pulls a length of navy silken material from his desk. It looks soft. You can’t help but wonder if he’s thought about a moment like this before. Mayhap even planned it. It doesn’t concern you. If it means you belong to him, you’ll _beg_ for it. 

As soon as he returns, you stand on tiptoes to reach his hood and pull him back down. Not bothering to wait for him, you close the distance and push your lips to his. Much like the last, this kiss is all heat and tongues, gasps for air between moans of need and want. Spoken hand and crystalline alike clutch at your waist but go no further. Restraint still held strong. When he pulls away, you chase him for another kiss.

“A moment—a moment, please,” he gasps, hands shaking as he softly pushes you away and holds up the silk.

You nod, let your arms drop to your sides and squeeze your eyes shut. Ears twitch in his direction as he takes a step closer, sandals loud against the marbled floor. The breath against your skin the next indication that he’s an ilm away from your face. He pushes stray hairs away from your eyes. Heart pounding in your chest, if you opened your eyes in this moment, you gaze upon the face of the man about to devour you.

The silk is smooth against your skin and your vision darkens. Fingers holding it in place allow for him to swiftly tie it at the back. He pulls the ends firmly. Both hands come to cup your cheeks. His breathing heavy, his restraint is failing. Moreso now that your eyes are covered.

“You don’t have to hold ba—” 

And he _doesn’t_. A hand tangles the in hair at the nape of your neck, the other cups your cheek. His lips hover over yours before he claims your mouth with a throaty growl. You gulp down a gasp as his lips ravage you. Staking a claim, leaving no quarter. You are _his_.There is **_no_** room for doubt. The Crystal Exarch will break you down and remake you, in his name and his alone. You belong to _him_.

Another low growl and you feel a hand at the small of your back. You fail to stifle another gasp as it travels to rest below your buttocks. He grunts and you are lifted from the ground. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life as you fling your arms around his shoulders and _cling_. He steps forward, powerful hips moving below your wrapped legs. Finally, when your back hits the wall his intentions are clear. You bite your lip.

“How many years have I _waited_ for this moment—”

“No more.”

  
  



	2. II

Arms now free to move, you slide your hands under the hood and push the damned thing from his head. Unable to resist temptation, you tighten your legs around his waist and draw close, pressed flush against you Thick robes ensure you remain unable to _feel_ anything. The pressure of him between your legs, pressed _there_ begins to light the spark in your stomach. The tinder that _he_ stokes.

Taking the opportunity to explore, your hand rests at his neck. His skin the cold crystalline that you’ve come to know so well. Moving across his throat, you feel him swallow _hard_ and where cold meets the warmth of his spoken skin. Fingers dart up his face, you trace his cheeks, run a thumb across those lips that you hold so dear. The ones that make you feel dizzy at the mere thought. More light touches to his lips and he softly bats your arm away snapping to grasp your hand and pulls it to his mouth. You bite your lip hard and gasp when he licks it from one side to the other. As he pulls away, he takes a finger into his mouth. He sucks and softly scrapes his teeth against the tip before moving onto the next. It’s mesmerizing, and you moan. 

“Pray tell, where are those hands of yours aiming?” he hisses below his breath, pulling away from your little finger. Pressing a kiss against the palm, he lightly nips at the skin before pulling your hand back to his shoulder.

You pout. Not used to _not_ getting what you want, you can’t help but wonder what awaits behind the blindfold. Left no time to linger on that, he _presses_ himself against you. Pushed together so tightly, the bump of arousal is now evident against your apex. 

“If I told you...I’d have to kill you,” you smile, moaning softly as he kisses you again. _Hard_.

Fingers fly out to clutch at anything you might be able to reach. This time you catch the side of his face, soft hair caresses your fingers. You touch it. Play with it. He moans into the kiss and pushes his tongue into your mouth. Desperate for more. More of _him_ , you hand slides further upward. The hair beneath your fingers begins to change—

He _growls_. Grabs your wrists roughly in one strong hand and slams them harshly to the wall above your head, pinning you. You whimper as you’re jolted against the unyielding surface. Chest heaving, you’re caught between arousal and embarrassment. 

“I shall have to _bind_ you too, it would seem,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.

"F-fine."

His head drops to rest in the crook of your neck. The weight is comforting. Hair soft against your neck, something tickles at your cheek. Heated lips press against your skin, the grip on your wrists tightens. The thumping of your heart becomes louder in your ears. Arching your back to get closer, your chest meets his. Pliant against solid, pressing your covered breasts against him.

“Warrior…” he moans. 

His hand snakes up your leg, his touch firm but gentle. Coming to a halt on your thigh, you internally curse your choice of trousers. A squeeze of the flesh has you whimper for more. He continues to move upward and comes to rest at the juncture between your legs.

“ _Strip._ ”


	3. III

All attention on his touch to your core flees on the command to  _ strip _ . You freeze, wanting to please him but unsure how with such a command in this position. The heat rises in your cheeks. You gulp.

"You heard me correctly.  _ Strip _ ."

Freeing your wrists, his hands snake under your knees to unhook your legs from his waist. Yearning for more of his touch, your hands scrabble for his shoulders once more as you find yourself placed back onto your feet. Shuffling from foot to foot, you don’t know how to proceed. Should you strip right here and now? Ask to be taken to a bedroll so that you might shimmy out of your clothes? It doesn’t matter. He steps back and you stumble with him, desperate to remain connected in some way until he pries your hands from his robes and forces you to turn.

Pushing your long hair over your shoulder, he unclasps the hooks at the top of your blouse and the pulls lose the laces. Suddenly you can breathe easily again, for now. Deft fingers hook under the hem of your top and gradually push it up. Though it moves only slightly, you feel entirely naked and fold your arms under your breasts with a gasp. 

“If you need me to stop, say now,” he murmurs huskily.

The heat rises, the blush spreading across your face . “ _ No-! _ Don’t stop,” you exclaim, letting your arms drop to your sides.

He hums in acknowledgement and steps back to appraise you. The blouse is easy enough to pull off over your head and you toss it in a random direction, hoping it will land somewhere that isn’t the floor. Shuffling to bend down, you blindly unlace your boots and kick them off. The cord of your trousers is easy to loosen; you push them off along with your smalls and throw them in the same direction. 

Heavy, deliberate footsteps reveal his circling, prowling steps. Like you’re an animal at market, predator to prey.  _ Inspecting _ you. Though feeling vulnerable, the thought of him looking at you turns the coil. You  _ throb _ . Hands at your waist softly turn you, a press to the small of your back urges you to bend over. Carefully reaching out, your fingers touch a hard surface, a wall. You lean against it.

His hand at your breast makes you gasp. He cups it and you whimper. Crystalline fingers pinch the nipple and it pebbles beneath his touch. Repeating to the other, it’s hard to keep your hands off him. You bite your bottom lip. He moves to cup your apex again, this time skin on skin. 

"W-what happened to binding me?" you ask, mildly dissatisfied. 

"Later. Right now, I have an urge to have my way with you against this wall."

The other hand tangles in your hair, gently urging you closer to the wall. So close that he presses your cheek against the cold surface. It's pleasant against the skin so you don't complain. The warmth of his hand on your head urges you to arch your back more. To please him.

A knee between your legs forces them apart, presenting yourself to him. The coil in your stomach winds tighter, growing more desperate as the seconds pass. Crystalline hand moves to grip your hip, spoken hand noisily fumbles at his robes. The chill in the air has the hairs on your arms standing on end. The loss of his hand  _ there _ is swiftly replaced by a racing heart and a moan. He pushes himself against you, the soft fabric bunched around his waist is the first thing you feel, his hard length in smalls against your buttocks is the second.


	4. IV

Able to feel that he isn’t  _ small _ , your throat feels drier as he deliberately leans into you—pressing you up against the wall more and more. Soft moans of need fall from your lips as you  _ feel _ the results of your actions. 

“Can you feel it?  _ This _ is what you do to me,” he growls into your ear, pressing harder.

You can, almost too well. His teasing drives you wild but the blindfold silently urges you to be  _ good _ . To bend to his will and only take what he has to offer. Pushing for more is tempting but pleasing him even more so. Maybe next time disobedience can be tested.

“I-I feel it,” you whisper. 

He presses a kiss between the lines of your shoulder blades. Soft hair tickles your back. It distracts you for a moment. His hand snakes over your hip, down your stomach between your thighs— _ oh _ . A thick finger dips into your welcoming core. Sighing at the intrusion, you step wider to allow better access. A second digit slips in, curling to stroke  _ that  _ spot. In an attempt to stifle your moans, you cover your mouth with a hand. He grins against your back.

“So  _ eager _ for me already?” he purrs. “I wish to hear you. Remove your hand.”

Obeying instantly, your hand falls to release the noises; every gasp, sigh and whimper. Focussing on anything but the fingers inside is impossible. You fidget, his fingers rough inside of you. You moan as he presses himself against you. Eyes squeezing shut and back arching, your breath comes in ragged pants as his fingers speed up.

His crystalline touch traces up your side, moves across your chest and cups the opposite breast. He groans with need,  _ growls _ into your ear and urgently thrusts in another finger to join the rest. One finger wasn’t enough, two was just right and three begins to stretch you. In the best way possible. In  _ just _ the way you desire.

“I’ll pull pleasure from you before you get what you’re so  _ desperately _ craving,” he murmurs into an ear.

The very words have your ears drooping against your head. So desperate to take him inside, the thought of finding pleasure on his hand rather than his length dampens your spirit. His thumb finds your bundle of nerves and rubs  _ slow _ circles against it. Ears perking up, the combination of his attention sends you hurtling toward your end. Too much. Squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your head against the wall, you feel yourself  _ clench _ around his fingers. You  _ throb _ with release and cry his name—his title—as you ride out your pleasure. 

“Good girl,” he coos. 

Shivering as he leaves your body, you hear him licking your pleasure from his fingers. The flush blooms across your cheeks once again. With your legs feeling weak, you slump against the wall for support. He takes himself in hand and moves to rest against your apex. Still sensitive from your release, you hiss air from between your teeth. 

“ _ Beg _ .  **_Prove_ ** that you deserve this,” he says, languidly running his member the length of your core.


	5. V

Though your vision remains dark, you turn your head toward him. Or rather, where you believe he is. Heart racing in your chest, you wonder if you heard him correctly.  _ Beg? _ The notion is a strange one, no doubt about that. Most unusual. But you  _ can _ beg.  _ Will _ beg.  **Only** for him. Another pass of his length swiftly makes up your mind.

“Please.  _ Please.  _ I’ll be good. I promise,” the words unconsciously fall from your lips, thinking little about the outcome.

"There's a  _ good girl.  _ So talented in so many ways. What would people think if they heard you begging?" he muses.

The praise goes to your head, makes you feel dizzy and out of breath at the same time. You didn’t know you would enjoy it so much. A surprise, but a welcome one. Something to explore. Rubbing your thighs together, he moans at the pliant flesh stroking at his length. 

"W-what would your subjects think if they saw you with a tamed Warrior of Light stroking your desire against her?" you quietly retort, wondering if he’ll even answer.

He doesn’t. Maybe you aren’t such a good girl after all—backchatting isn’t being  _ good _ . He seems to know your thoughts. Achingly slowly, he rubs his length between your thighs, against your warmth. Right  _ there _ . You can’t help but wonder if he’s planning something with no punishment in sight. A hand comes to rest at your waist and the other grasps a shoulder. You whine as he pulls away and urges you to turn around, using his strong arms as guidance.

“I fear I’ve changed my mind. Binding you on the bed suits you moreso,” he murmurs into an ear, you shiver at his breath. 

All you can do is nod, determined to be good. Your steps are small, unnerved at being blinded. It’s too slow for him. He bends, hooks an arm under your knees and lifts you into the air. Squeaking at being lifted with no warning, you’re entirely at his mercy. You’ll go wherever he deems fit to take you. Two seconds later and you’re unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, the firm mattress below stabilising you. Awkwardly, you lie flat with your head against a pillow, arms resting above and legs crossed.

He moves away entirely, leaving you  _ cold _ .

Ears twitch forward at sounds of rustling, then of fabric hitting the floor. You gulp. He’s undressing, you’re certain. Images run through your head, of what he may look like beneath the robes. It’s clear his arms have strength, how the straps  _ strain _ with movement. Corded muscles that you’ve  _ carved _ to memory. To be embraced by those arms...oh how you wish for it.

“Open your legs.”

As requested, you spread your legs and wait with baited breath. The bed dips with his weight and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. The first point of contact is at your ankle, warm fingers press lightly on the skin then slide upward. Onward to your calf, he doesn’t stop until he reaches your thigh. You tense under him. Sensing your anxiety, he massages the flesh and rests his forehead on your knee.

“I’ll have you mewling from my tongue before anything else,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to the very top of your thigh. “ _ Only _ then shall I bind you.”


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing oral sex on a vagina, bear with me.

“Is that a promise?” you breathe, chest heaving with excitement. And nerves.

“Have I ever let you down?” he asks pointedly—he hasn’t.

Without waiting for an answer, he moves to your core. An experimental lick has you softly sighing. The second pass of his mouth is less chaste, licking greedily like a man starved. For such a stoic man, his tongue belies a tempest of emotions.  _ Need. Lust. Want. Greed.  _ Everything that is mutual but unsaid. Noisily he licks, gasping and mewling at every movement. Every pass. Every touch of his mouth against your apex sends you whimpering with need.

Your hands fist into his silken hair, weaving between strands to pull him closer. Head falling back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Your breath catches as he swirls his tongue around your bundle of nerves. A deep inhale and he dips inside. Panting and whining, it won’t be long before you come undone on his mouth. All your name-days come at once as he moans against you, tasting your sweet warmth.

His grasp on your thighs tightens as he pulls away to breathe. Already mourning the loss of his mouth on you.  _ In _ you. A finger dips inside, he moans again. The slippery sounds from between your legs send your mind into overdrive. Really, he is torturing you and he knows it. What you truly desire is neither fingers nor mouth but him.  **_All_ ** of him.

“And again so  _ eager  _ for me,” he murmurs, pressing lips to sensitive flesh at your inner thigh.

The fingers curl inside, pressed  _ there.  _ His mouth at your clit, alternating between licking and sucking. Rolling your hips up to meet his face, to get closer. The tightly wound coil begins to buckle under the pressure, the oh-so-familiar feeling of teetering on the edge of the precipice builds in your stomach. Then it snaps. 

“ _ E-Exarch! _ ” you cry as the dam breaks, your legs tremble at the sensations flowing through your body.

You keen on his mouth. Arching your back as release washes over you, shattered into a thousand pieces and instantly made whole. Unwillingly to part so quickly, hands scramble through his tresses where hair turns to fur and you stop. He says nothing, too engrossed in tasting your sweetness. Still throbbing with desire, the haze in your mind begins to pass and you piece together what you’re feeling. Ears. Though blind, it’s clear to see—to feel, two miqo’te ears atop his silk hair. Not wanting to attract attention to it, fingers slide back into his locks.

“And such a pretty mewling it was,” he purrs, his voice low and husky. “Even I have limitations to my restraint. For you to be bound and owned. That is my next wish.”


	7. VII

“Your  _ next _ wish?” you ask, trying to catch breath stolen by release. “You have had  _ many _ wishes this night. When do you plan to grant mine?”

“Ah—that would depend on you, Warrior,” he breathes, pressing a final kiss to your thigh and sitting up. “Let us see how well you deal with being bound and mayhap you shall receive what you wish for.”

As he moves away you close your legs, though your core still throbs from release and your heart pounds in your chest. Quite literally he has taken your breath away.  How many more times he plans to take it from you remains a question in your mind, unasked, but you want to find out. You will let him take the lead . There is no question that you’ll be exhausted in the morning. But in the  _ best _ possible way; entirely spent of energy and throat sore from voicing pleasure.

The mattress creaks as he stands and two heavy footsteps later ears twitch forward as wood scrapes on wood; a drawer opening then shutting just as quickly. The bed dips. He throws a leg over your waist, pinning you between strong thighs and he bends to brace hands either side of your head. Hovering just out of reach, his very presence is  _ intense _ . Breath rolls across skin, you shiver and reach out, hands shaking with anticipation. 

Roaming fingers meet flesh, one side cool, the other the warmth of spoken skin. Taut muscle under your touch spans the length of wide, strong shoulders. Ones that you could easily wrap yourself around. Gliding down thick arms, the strength continues in both body and mind. Never ceasing, he was a fire you would willingly burn yourself on. Following the leather bands stretched taut over muscle tightens the coil in your stomach. Ghosting over his fingers pulls a rumbling growl from his chest. The juxtaposition of crystalline hand and flesh feel different and yet the same, two sides of the same enigmatic coin.

“If you’re done committing my arms to memory...” he purrs from somewhere above your face.

But before finding a chance to answer, his lips cover yours with a ferocity never before seen.It’s all you can do to moan into the kiss. With a low growl he bites at your bottom lip, begging—no,  _ demanding _ entry to the welcoming warmth within. He thrusts inside to explore without waiting your permission, his tongue stroking along yours. The kiss is wet and noisy and together you moan, sounding your desire. In the distraction, he darts to grab both wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Hold still,” he pants. It’s clear that even  _ his _ restraint now wavers with you laying quite helpless before him. A feast for the taking, only for  _ him. _

A pass of texture across skin gives you pause. Solid and rough though not painful, he loops it around your wrists.  _ Rope _ . Though apparent it’s of a bedroll nature rather than that used in shipyards. The thought of being bound unable to move,  _ entirely _ at his mercy is temptation incarnate—made real by the miqo’te before you.  _ Who is he? _

“...My arms too, if you please,” you whisper, daring to ask for more.

He lets out a sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a growl.


	8. VIII

After all his teasing, you smile in delight that he appears to be struggling with heightened need. You play up to it, silent and childish revenge. Emphasising your breasts with an arch of your back, the most tempting of curves—just to see how dangerous the game is. Your chest touches his. A solid wall of mass, hardened lines that belie his somewhat older appearance in robes. The contact between you is both hot and cold.

His solid hand supports you at the small of your back as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. Long lashes tickle you, soft lips press to your skin followed by the scraping of teeth. Praise and curse the Twelve, the teasing is too much and yet not enough. Your head falls to one side, granting access to the column of your throat. Citrus scent abounds from skin to hair though you’ve never hidden the fact you’re miqo’te, you can’t help but wonder if it’s an attempt to conceal. 

“At least bind me before you continue to ravage me,” you pout into unbound hair. 

All talk and no action will leave you disappointed—though maybe that’s what he wants. A long moment of silence as he considers your words before he lets out a sigh. Smiling inwardly at your small victory, he licks a stripe against skin then pulls away.

“You are  _ quite _ demanding. Mayhap not  _ quite _ as good as I had assumed.”

The first loop around your limbs is loose, the rope rubs softly against skin. If it continues like that, it’ll be easy to escape from his binds. Though you find yourself wondering what punishment it’d bring, the second loop comes tighter. The thought quickly abandoned, the rope rubs harshly against the skin, sure to leave a rash but the excitement and  _ thrill _ outweigh the discomfort. 

A crystalline finger glides down your arm, traces the length of your collarbone and dips between your breasts. One digit becomes his whole hand as he cups you. The coolness of his skin pebbles your nipple, he squeezes the flesh with a gentleness that you have come to  _ adore _ . Sighing into his ministrations, he moves over your stomach and comes to a rest at your core. Two digits dip inside you, soaked with slick you can smell your arousal. As can he, a growl rumbling in his chest. 

The touching of your core doesn’t last long before he continues down your thighs and under your knees, he hooks your long legs about his waist. Ankles crossed behind him to secure yourself, you draw him closer. Body to body, the hardness of his length proves his desire for you. So  _ close _ now, to be deprived again would be torturous. The pulse of blood in your ears and the pounding of your heart  _ crave _ it.

“Are you ready?” 

“Yes—” 


	9. IX

With your approval, his demeanour seems to change. As if he can drop the facade that comes with the title and just be  _ himself _ —that’s how you want him, free from his burdens and duties. Hot breath hits your face signaling his closeness, followed by warm lips that cover yours. Softer than before, unsaid emotions sizzle between the two of you. Though the kiss is gentle, the fire of wanting that burns inside continues to be stoked, his lips only fueling the inferno within. Levin chases down your spine, fingers weave between strands of hair as he softly licks your bottom lip, persuading you to open for him.

“G’raha…” you softly sigh into the kiss before you can stop yourself. 

He freezes for a long moment then pulls away, hovering. Hands clamped around your thighs, his arousal remains pressed against your wet core, needy and achingly hard. It was never your intention to let onto knowledge of his identity, but it slipped out. It’s too late now, you can only hope he will continue with what has been started. For what feels like an age he remains still but eventually you hear him sigh.

“…Dare I ask, what gave away my identity?” he murmurs, trying not to rub himself against you to ease the friction.

Smiling, you hide a giggle behind a small hand. Really, he didn’t feel your hands upon his ears? You were neither shy nor cautious about it—a true explorer. “You have two ears atop that head of yours. Logic dictates it cannot be viera ears. You are a miqo’te. No doubts about it…” you trail off. “…and there is only one miqo’te who I would care for so deeply.”

As much as you would easily spend an age just talking to G’raha, he’s pressed against your apex and your thoughts remain focused on that alone. An urgent and passionate need to be fulfilled. You sense that he wishes to communicate before continuing. Not giving him a chance to utter another word, you tighten your legs around his waist, drawing him closer. He moans, blunt claws digging into pliant flesh.

“I was somewhat preoccupied Warrior to have noticed you groping around, you surely cannot hold it against me,” he hisses, each word punctuated with a heavy breath. “As such I must ask, do you wish to continue?”

“Forgive my coarse language. But your  _ cock _ is against my  _ cunt _ that is throbbing and wet for you…and you ask me if I wish to continue!” you purr. “The answer is yes, my dear G’raha, please  **_fuck_ ** me already. All this teasing is driving me near wild. We can talk later, after even but right now I need you. Must I beg?”

“You do beg remarkably well…” G’raha trails off, his voice darkened with lust. “I shall have you  _ beg _ again, even if not today. Put that pretty mouth of yours to a better use.”

You flush at his words; it’s not hard to imagine what he has in mind. And you would—take his length into your mouth until he spilled, swallowing everything that he has to give you. Pulled from your thoughts, G’raha presses himself against you. That’s enough for now—less talking and more action. Seeking out a muscular arm, your hand glides up over his taut shoulders. Across spoken and crystalline skin alike, coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. Tangling fingers into his hair you attempt to push his head to yours, to press up to those lips. He doesn’t seem to appreciate being told what to do, as a low growl escapes his throat and he smothers you with his mouth. Any whimper of protest is soon drowned out by his demanding lips and tongue, with his mantle of  _ Crystal Exarch _ thrown to the wayside his restraint follows soon thereafter. 

Reluctantly pulling away to  breathe  before your mouth is claimed again, greedy hands roam your body, over your stomach to cup your breasts in large hands. The next thoroughly intoxicating kiss has the aching at your apex growing more urgent. Your core threatens to draw him in with every pass of his length, slick running down your thighs. G’raha’s hand at your chest snakes between your bodies and he takes himself in hand. 

The release of breath comes out as a hiss between your teeth as he slowly hilts himself within. Thoroughly aroused, there is no discomfort, only the satisfying stretch of his thick length. All the teasing had been worth it, for this moment of coming together. Conjoining of your two bodies. He murmurs your name as he stills, again and again he whispers it—with reverence and longing. Shivering at the fullness, you whisper the first thing that comes to mind.

"Raha..." 

Blinking as light suddenly floods into your vision, the blindfold is pulled away from your eyes, revealing  _ everything _ .


End file.
